


Finally, Finally

by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel)



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Past Buck/Abby, Realizing Feelings, but nothing actually explicit, i'm not sure what to tag this as, my first fic with no f words, my take on "Abby Comes Back", the Teen rating is just because there's talk of sex and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MonsieurBlueSky
Summary: When Abby returns to LA nearly two years after leaving abruptly, the sole purpose is to find Evan Buckley.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Abby Clark, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 633





	1. Part One: Abby

When Abby returns to LA nearly two years after leaving abruptly, the sole purpose is to find Evan Buckley.

During the first few months after her sudden departure, she had felt guilty over leaving him behind. She truly had loved him, but it was also true that she needed time and distance and freedom to find herself. She told him to see other people, to have fun and be a regular mid-twenties hot single, but the regular phone calls between them were a tether she secretly clung to-- a lifeline back to the real world when this wandering dream finally fell apart around her.

Only… the dream didn’t end as she thought it would.

In Ireland first, and then Greenland, and Morocco, Abby grew to feel free in a way she had never experienced before. There were people and places she’d only ever dared to imagine; kisses shared with strangers in dimly lit bars and hands roaming under her skirt. It was enticing, mesmerizing, and ultimately, as she well knew, fleeting.

As the phone calls with Buck tapered off, Abby found herself hiding her newfound freedom and personality from him. He talked about his sister, his work, his life, and in every call she could hear the maturity rising. He missed her. He was staying celibate for her. And she… was not.

It was ironic in a way that Abby didn’t like to look at too closely.

He was becoming a new person, and so was she. Though she didn’t dare share that with him, she quietly came to understand that as they grew on their own, they were also growing apart.

As the weeks became months, which dragged into a year, Abby found herself settling down in nice town. Small, infinitely so compared to Los Angeles, but homey in a way that the big city never felt. The sunrises could be watched from the balcony of a stone building in the midst of a sunflower field. A creek could be the only link between houses a mile and a half apart. Cows and goats lingered on the edges of trees, free from shackles and fences, able to just roam the countryside.

It was in this small town that Abby truly, she felt, found herself.

The quiet she never felt in LA or in the backs of bars in Ireland. It was serene. Home.  _ Her _ .

It was also in this small town that Abby met Harold. He was a doctor, nothing like what she interacted with during her dispatcher times. A small town doctor who had once gone to a big school and decided, like her, that the country was where he belonged. They fell in love quickly as sometimes you do, and within months Harold was proposing.

Abby looked at the ring, at the man she really, truly loved before her, and with a heavy heart said, “I can’t. Not yet. There’s something I have to do first.”

Harold understood, in that unspoken way that lovers have, and in no time, Abby was on a flight back to California. He had offered to go with her, but it felt like something she had to do on her own. A real goodbye.

She could only hope that Buck would understand.

A phone call, she decided, was far too impersonal. And showing up at the firestation was too personal by far. This left a go-between in Carla, the woman who had miraculously kept in touch with both Abby and Buck throughout their separation and was more than happy to point Abby in the direction of Buck’s new apartment.

As she stood outside the door, preparing herself for any situation beyond the threshold, Abby tried to remain calm. She was nervous, among other things. Guilty, ashamed, excited. 

She was doing this for herself. Not for Harold, not for Buck. For once in her life, she was doing something for  _ herself--  _ facing this last person that still holds a piece of her in Los Angeles, a tether connecting her to the person she used to be. She knew, deep inside, that she needed to clip that string to really be able to move on and finally be free.

She releases a breath, knocks, and waits.

Would he be angry with her?

She’s still angry with herself, even after all this time, because Buck was an amazing person who never deserved to be led on the way she had done to him. 

She could only hope that this would give him some sort of catharsis.

She would let him be angry, if that’s what he needed, because maybe letting him be angry would finally allow him to forgive her.

Whether he forgave her or not, this was the last step of letting go, of becoming the real Abby she was always destined to be.

This was the last step in forgiving herself.

The door opens.


	2. Part Two: Buck

Buck is up to his elbows in green goo. It’s a mix of glue and some sort of solution and food coloring and he’s not even sure what else at this point. As he tries to pull away, it sucks him closer. Christopher laughs from where he’s sitting on the counter to Buck’s right.

They’d been attempting to make slime. It was a simple enough recipe Buck had found online and once they realized the bowl was too small, they’d plugged up the kitchen sink and… well from there, it had only grown and now Buck was in danger of being sucked right down the drain along with the slime if the stopper happened to come loose.

Of course, it was in the midst of this mess that a knock came from the door.

“Uhh…” Buck looked up at Chris, then over to Eddie, standing on his son’s other side, and grimaced. “Can you get that?”

Eddie was already pulling away from the counter, a fond smile on his face. “You better figure out how to get that junk off before it dries in your arm hair.”

This sets Christopher off into another set of giggles, dramatically leaning away when Buck reaches a slime covered hand toward him.

“Your hands should be in here, too,” Buck tells him. “Why am I the only one covered in slime?”

Christopher reaches out tentatively and presses a single finger into the slime before jerking it back.

“Here,” Buck motions for Chris’s hand with a wiggle of his own fingers. The slime makes a webbing like ducks feet, clinging to his skin. “Come here.”

A small open-palmed hand is outstretched to him and Buck carefully places a glob of the goo in the center. He watches as Christopher’s face scrunches up, his nose wrinkling and lips grinning, as he squishes it between little fingers.

“Gross, right?”

Christopher beams and repeats, “Gross.”

“Buck?”

He attempts to twist around, catching sight of Eddie standing there. And next to him, a startlingly familiar flash of pale red hair. His mouth goes dry and the smile slides like slime from his face, landing in the sink with his hands.

His mouth moves on its own accord, reacting on instinct before his brain has a chance to catch up. “Abby.”

Something like a smile twitches on her lips. Her hands wring together in front of her. She looks out of place, he realizes, in his new apartment; a piece of some other life slotted uncomfortably into this new one.

A second, or maybe minutes, hours, pass in silence. If Buck blinks he thinks maybe she’ll be gone. He closes and opens his eyes, but she’s still there.

Eddie steps forward, shoulder jostling Buck’s, like he’s waking him from a dream.

“How about we get you washed up?” But Eddie doesn’t wait for an answer as he swipes Christopher off the counter, setting him on the floor.

“Uh--” Buck says and raises his eyebrows at Eddie. It says a lot;  _ please don’t. Help. Seriously, I’m glued to the kitchen sink. Don’t just leave me here. _

Eddie flips on the water for him and offers nothing more than a quiet shrug and a half-hearted pat on the shoulder before following Christopher to the bathroom.

As he focuses on scrubbing the slime off his arms, he sees Abby from the corner of his eye moving a bit closer. She makes a wide arch around him like she’s cornering a frightened cat. He pretends not to notice.

“Here,” she says, and squeezes some Dawn into his open palm.

“ _ Thanks _ ,” he means to say, but instead says, “Why are you here?”

He focuses twice as hard on the slime. He watches as it dissolves and disappears in green swirls down the drain. His hands are clean but he keeps scrubbing so he has something to do.

“We should talk,” Abby says.

Buck snorts. “You broke up with me already.” He tries not to sound bitter and fails. As much as he thought--  _ knew _ \-- he was over her, having Abby suddenly reappear in his life is offsetting. It puts her in control, and Buck hates the feeling of vulnerability that leaves him with.

Just barely loud enough to be heard over the running water, Abby sighs. He used to know that sound, inside and out. Her breathing was his own personal Ambu bag, giving him life when he felt like he was suffocating.

Now, the sound is just that; breathing. Empty air that dissipates around him.

“I’m getting married.”

Whatever he expected her to say, it wasn’t that.

From the look of surprise on her own face, he supposes that wasn’t quite what Abby expected to say either.

He turns off the water, wipes his hands on his jeans, and waits. For what, he isn’t sure.

More words, maybe. An explanation.

Or maybe he’s waiting for the feeling of betrayal, of anger or pain, to curl up in his stomach. But instead, there’s nothing.

“Hey, Buck?” Eddie has reappeared in the kitchen and just past him, he can see Christopher gathering his bag in the living room. “We’re gonna head out.”

Buck frowns. “What? No, I told Chris I’d order pizza tonight.”

Eddie nods slowly, his gaze sliding shamelessly to Abby for a second before once more settling on Buck. “Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to us tomorrow. You two probably want to talk.”

He wants to argue, but the look on Eddie’s face is set. Christopher comes into the room with his backpack slung over one shoulder. He hands it to his dad before moving to wrap his arms around Buck’s waist. “Bye Buck,” he says.

He brushes a hand through Christopher’s hair and sighs. “Bye, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris echoes back.

Eddie offers a nod and a small wave before following Chris to the door. Just before they disappear, Christopher’s voice filters back to them. “Love you, Buck.”

Without a seconds thought, Buck calls, “Love you, too, Chris.”

The door closes and Buck has nowhere to look other than Abby.

“He’s cute,” she says.

Buck nods, deciding it’s the right thing to do. “Yeah. He’s a pretty great kid.”

Abby’s smile turns wry. “I meant the dad.”

He supposes that’s true, too. “He gets that a lot.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to work, Buck thinks. He and Abby used to be perfect together, flawless, two pieces of a puzzle that fit together seamlessly. It’s not supposed to be awkward. And yet here they are, unable to look directly at each other without uncomfortably shifting their gaze away.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this.”

“You could have called,” Buck says, and then immediately flinches away from his own words. “Not that it isn’t great to see you. Just… a warning would have been nice, I guess.”

“You’re right,” Abby concedes. She can’t seem to find what to do with her hands. They flutter helplessly at her sides, butterflies held by strings to her arms. “I wanted to see you, though. It was probably selfish, but I didn’t know if you would want to see me.”

Buck laughs. “So you made sure I couldn’t say no.” He shakes his head. He tries to play the scenario out in his mind-- he imagines his phone ringing, seeing her name flash across the screen. It would have given him pause, he thinks, but he also thinks he would answer. It reminds him of the days before everything fell apart between them, when it was just two disconnected voices through a phone. It’s as honest as he can be when he says, “I would have said yes, Abby. It is good to see you again.”

She visibly deflates, as if Buck had just lifted a weight from her shoulders. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

It takes a moment for him to inventory his own feelings. The initial shock at seeing her has worn off, leaving in its place a sense of contentedness. If he feels deep enough, he can reach the points of entry. It’s a vague sort of happiness that he always felt around her, even when things between them had first started. But… different.

So in total honesty, Buck says, “I’m not mad. I never was.” He opens the fridge and pulls out two beers, popping one open and holding it out to Abby. A peace offering. She takes it. “I was sad,” he continues, gripping the neck of his own bottle. He doesn’t open it yet. “Alone, unsure. But never mad.”

“I never should have made you feel that way.” Abby stares into her beer for a long time. “I loved you, Buck. I really did. That was one thing I was never uncertain about. But I needed time, and space, to figure myself out.”

“Did you,” he asks, “figure yourself out?

Abby nods. “I did.”

“And you’re married?”

“Engaged,” she corrects, because the distinction is important. He notices that she’s not yet wearing a ring. “I needed to get closure with you before I can really move on and be happy. That’s why I’m here.”

Buck chuckles. “You want my blessing?”

Abby smiles. “I want your friendship.”

For a long time after Abby left, that’s the thing he missed most. Not the sex or the dates. Just being friends, knowing that she was always there for him. It took awhile before he filled that hole in himself, that gaping cavity that she once had her home in.

They didn’t fit the same, he thought, but other things melded together to fill that void. Having his sister back in his life. Spending time with Chris.

Eddie.

After nearly two years, Buck doesn’t feel that empty space anymore, not as much as he used to. Sometimes there’s a distant ache in his chest when he sees something and his first instinct is still to tell Abby about it, but it’s a dull sort of pain now. Something that resounds fondly instead of painfully.

Buck steps forward and sets his beer down on the counter. “We’ll always be friends, Abby.”

And as Abby sighs, it’s as if her relief fills the entire room. He breathes it in, letting it wash over and under his skin.

Closure, he thinks, is a hell of a drug. 


	3. Part Three: Eddie

_ “In case something happens…” _

Those were the exact words Captain Nash had used nearly a year and a half ago when Eddie first joined the 118.

Exchanging keys was a small, simple way to say “I got your back” in case something happened on a call. It was no secret that they had a dangerous job and there was no use tiptoeing around the fact.

In case something happened.

In case you don’t make it out alive.

In case someone has to clean out your place and notify your next of kin.

It was morbid, in a way, but it was also a comfort.

On the ring that Eddie uses, there’s a little orange keychain that reads “Best Dad Ever” and a key to his truck, his house, his abuela’s house, and one dedicated to every one of the members of the 118.

They each had one for his house, too.

If pressed, Eddie would admit that he wasn’t sure what key fit what door. He thinks Hen’s might have been the silver key with the ridged top, and Chimney’s was probably the one that was marked with a messy H in Sharpie.

The only key he knew with absolute certainty was the gold key that showed more wear with each passing day. That one was Buck’s. It hung right between his own house key and the keychain Christopher had picked out for him two Christmases ago.

Then again, Buck gets enough use out of his copy of Eddie’s key to make it a fair trade.

When Abby had manifested like a mirage outside of Bucks’ door, Eddie had recognized her immediately. Not necessarily from look, as he’d only seen a photo of her one or two times, but from some weird sixth sense. Maybe it was her fading red hair or the way she held herself-- he had heard stories of her, fairy tale-like musings, from Buck and Carla alike. 

Until he stood face to face with her-- her just outside Buck’s apartment, Eddie inside-- he had sort of thought of her as a figment of imagination. Not that she wasn’t real, exactly, but more like the real her was lost somewhere amidst the memories. She had become a story, not a person.

And then she smiled quietly. “I’m looking for Buck.”

Eddie could see in the softness of her eyes and imagined the way Buck must have felt once upon a time; loving her, losing her.

Eddie hated her profusely.

He led her into the kitchen and left them alone to talk-- or not talk-- as they saw fit. It was none of his business, after all.

“Dad,” Christopher’s voice pulls him out of his own head. They’re eating leftover lasagna, just the two of them, in the living room. The couch is colder than it usually feels and he chalks it up to the coming winter. LA is warm, but it’s a change from Texas he’s still adapting to. Chris prods at his plate, mostly untouched. “Why did Buck want us to leave?”

“Oh, Bud, no.” Eddie feels guilty suddenly. “Buck didn’t want us to leave. The woman that showed up, she was a friend of his that he hadn’t seen in awhile. I just thought they needed some time alone.”

“Why?”

Eddie isn’t sure he can explain it to himself, let alone his son. “Well, they haven’t seen each other in a long time. They need to catch up.”

“But why did we have to leave?”

Eddie frowns.

Buck didn’t tell them to leave. He actively wanted them to stay.

It was Eddie that freaked out and fled.

Because the idea of listening to Buck catch up with his ex-girlfriend sounded like hell on earth.

Because he didn’t want to see Buck inevitably fall back in love with her.

Because of things he wasn’t quite ready to face in himself.

Eddie decides to sidestep the question. “We’ll see him tomorrow, I promise”

Christopher takes the non-answer as it is, and says, “Okay.”

Eddie forces himself to take another bite of food, though it tastes stale on his tongue and settles dry in his stomach.

Minutes tick by as both Christopher and Eddie stop pretending to eat and fall back on the couch together. They watch Big Hero 6 and laugh obligingly, but it feels forced.

It feels wrong.

This is how it’s been done for years, Eddie reminds himself. Just him and Christopher. This is normal. Still, the coldness of the couch seeps into his bones.

He hears the door close a second before he hears Buck’s voice. “Diazes!” he calls. “Where are you?”

“Buck!”

Chris struggles to sit up and manages to launch himself off the couch, making a beeline for the sound of the newcomers voice. Eddie follows suit and meets Buck in the dining room, where he’s setting down a pizza box and scooping Christopher up into his arms.

“I hope I’m not too late,” Buck says, peering into the living room where two plates of cold lasagna sit, barely touched. “I promised you pizza, and I never break my promises.” He looks over at Eddie, a bit of uncertainty coloring his words. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Christopher confirms, lifting the lid on the pizza box. He grabs a slice and disappears back in front of the TV.

“I would have called,” Buck says, leaning closer and lowering his voice, “But I was coming over whether you said yes or not.”

Eddie snorts. He retrieves a piece for himself, but leans against the table instead of joining his son. “You didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to.”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie stresses, trying to figure out for himself what exactly he is saying. “That I would have understood. You and Abby needed to catch up. I get it.”

“And we did,” Buck says, a shrug pulling at his shoulders while a smile tugs at his lips. “It was very cathartic.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t want details. He does not want any details. He understands, as Buck’s best friend, that he should lend an ear. He should offer his congratulations. He chews quietly on his pizza and steels himself.

“She’s getting married.”

_ Oh _ .

“Oh. I’m sorry, Buck.”

Buck laughs and his entire face lights up. It’s a smile that’s always been contagious. “Why? I’m really happy for her.”

“You are?”

Buck nods. He leans against the table next to Eddie, their hands brushing together between them. Eddie does his best to ignore it.

“When she first said it, I was waiting for… I don’t know,” Buck shrugs with his entire torso, a gesture that jostles their shoulders together. Eddie curses silently. “I guess I was waiting on the pain. I expected it to hurt. But it didn’t. If she had told me that a year and a half ago, I would have been heartbroken.”

Buck sighs and intentionally presses his arm against Eddie’s, more than just an accidental brush of limbs. It remains there, skin to skin.

It’s almost as if he knows the sensation that the simple touch sends through Eddie, but he couldn’t possibly know. He couldn’t know the shiver that rolls up his spine, the goosebumps that arise on his forearm, the way his heart beats just a little bit faster.

Not unless Buck feels it, too.

He doesn’t move away.

“When Abby left,” Buck says, his voice quiet, meant for just the two of them to hear. Chris remains oblivious in the other room, mere yards away. Doesn’t he hear the static rushing in Eddie’s ears? Can he not hear the beating of Eddie’s heart pounding against his ribs?

“When I really accepted that she wasn’t planning on coming back,” Buck’s hands outstretch in front of him, grappling for something physical to hold onto. Some infinite emotion or thought that he’s trying his best to convey with spread fingers. Eddie wants to feel it, whatever it is that Buck is reaching for. “It was like there was this hole she left. An Abby-shaped hole that no one night stands or casual sex could fill. _ I loved her. _ ”

It takes a long time for Eddie to find his voice. He watches the side of Buck’s face, outlining the curve of his nose and the shadow of his lips. He isn’t even sure he wants an answer when he asks, “And now? Do you still love her?”

Buck looks up and meets his gaze, steady and sure, as he shakes his head. “No. I don’t. Not the same way, at least.”

Eddie can’t breathe. He needs to look away before he does something stupid, but he can’t move.

Buck’s arm brushes his again and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t see Buck smile.

“You feel it, too,” Buck says, and then Eddie feels the hand on his arm, solid, tantalizing, and definitely not just a brush of skin. There’s an intent in his hands and Eddie feels it in that moment, the thing Buck had been reaching for a moment ago; The feeling, the sentiment, the  _ something more _ just beyond words. 

“I didn’t know how to move on,” Buck admits. Eddie can feel his breath, but resolutely refuses to open his eyes. He’s afraid of what will happen if he does. “And I didn’t realize until I saw her again that I already had.”

Finally,  _ finally _ , Eddie opens his eyes. “Buck--” he starts, but then there’s a mouth on his and he can’t focus to breathe, let alone find words to say whatever it was he was going to say.

It’s a short kiss that seems to last minutes or hours, and when Buck finally pulls away, Eddie’s head is swimming.

That just happened.

He kissed me.

_ I’d very much like it if he did it again. _

Buck is watching him with doe eyes, big and blue and waiting.

Waiting, he realizes, for Eddie to say something.

Ultimately, in the haze that still fills his head, he blurts out, “I fill your hole.”

A beat passes and then Buck is clutching his stomach laughing. “Yeah,” he says. “You fill my hole.”

Eddie feels his face burn and he shoves Buck, but can’t stop himself from laughing, too. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant the-- Stop laughing. I meant _ the Abby-shaped hole. _ ”

Buck catches his arm and pulls him back in close. Their noses bump and the laughter dissipates. Eddie moves slowly, feeling like if he moves too quick he could startle Buck away. Buck would come to his senses, or Eddie would wake up in a cold bed, alone, realizing this has all been a dream. He’s wanted this for so long, much longer than he ever even admitted to himself. He cannot mess this up now.

But when he kisses Buck, slow and sure, he feels more certain than he ever has. He whispers into the kiss, “You fill my hole, too.”

The feeling of Buck laughing against his lips is something he never wants to forget.

“Dad?”

A hand knocks on his back and he jumps away from Buck, nearly toppling over Christopher in the process.

_ Chris _ .

He forgot about Christopher for a second.

He’d been careless, too wrapped up in his own head to even think about how Chris would take to seeing his dad and Buck kiss.

But Christopher is just staring up at him, plate in hand. “Can you move, please? You’re in front of the pizza.”

Eddie shifts to the side, tangling himself further in Buck’s arms. They watch quietly as Chris helps himself to another piece of pizza and wanders again back into the living room without another word.

They wait, tense and silent, for something, anything, to happen. It can’t be this easy, Eddie thinks. Nothing is ever this easy. Nothing with  _ Buck  _ is ever this easy.

And yet, it is. The way he’d slotted himself perfectly into their lives, becoming a centerpiece in not only Eddie's but Christopher's routine. It’s the easiest thing they’ve ever done.

“We should go,” Buck says. He grabs a plate and shoves a few slices of pizza on before leading Eddie into the living room. They sit together, eating and watching the movie. It’s Buck’s first time seeing it so they start it over and if Buck happens to cry, no one mentions a thing. Eddie just hands him a tissue and leans back into the couch, letting the warmness of it all wash over him.

This, he thinks, feels normal. In fact, he can’t imagine a more rational next step in their friendship, their relationship. It feels  _ right _ .

As he catches Buck’s eyes over the top of Christopher’s head, they share a smile that says all of this and more.

This is home.

This is us, our family, ourselves.

This is love.

_**The End.** _


End file.
